Your Reality
by OriginalPippie
Summary: The Monkees: How do you tell the difference between reality and the vividly imagined experience? This was inspired by/based on a story written by my friend December.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

The car pulled up to the club and immediately all four Monkees spilled out of it. They then began unloading their instruments from the car and bringing them inside the club. This was the first paid gig that they had in months so they were all very excited. Not only was their first gig in a while but they were going to get paid much better than most gigs that they had in the past. And if things went well they would be eligible to come back for the battle of the bands as well as other opportunities that were coming up soon. Because of all this it seemed as though everything was going in just the right direction for them.

Right away, once they had everything inside, they scrambled to the stage with their instruments. The club owner came up to them and began telling them everything that they needed to know about the gig that night and club rules and whatnot, all while they were setting up on the stage. The excitement seemed to be contagious amongst the band. They laughed, joked and even did a little roughhousing with each other, often having to stop and remind themselves that they were supposed to be setting up. Not to anyone's surprise, Micky was especially excited about performing that night. Since he was so over the moon he was also extra hyper and wasn't paying attention to what he was doing the entire time. Often he was warned by Mike to calm down and pay attention, and often he ignored the warnings only proving to everyone that he was getting by just fine despite the way he was acting. Unfortunately this could only go on for so long before something happened to him.

Micky went up to one of the microphone stands that was center stage. In order to do a quick sound check he tapped on the microphone and then hummed a little bit into it. Then, grabbing the stand with both hands, he leaned forward with the stand and belted out a long, loud single note. When the note ended he stood up straight, still holding onto the stand, and began singing part of one of their songs in a rather seductive way. It was then when Mike, growing frustrated, pulled Micky away from the microphone.

"Would ya cut it out? We have to finish setting up."

"Alright, alright I'm done. But we were all goofing around." Micky let out a small laugh.

"Not as much as you." Mike rolled his eyes and walked away.

Micky fixed the microphone stand the way it should have been and then looked out to where the audience would be. As he stood there imagining the audience there, a big smile formed across his face that seemed to stretch all the way to the back of his head. He was then brought back to reality once Mike reminded him again that he needed to finish setting up his drums. With a slight sigh he turned around and looked toward where his drums lay on the stage in pieces. The only thing he disliked about being a drummer was the fact that his was the only instrument that required disassembling and reassembling every time they had a gig somewhere. To make this aspect worse he usually was the only one who ever did anything to set them up. But instead of complaining about it, he just sucked it up and prepared himself to put his drum kit together.

Not paying attention to what he was doing, Micky took a step too fast and accidentally wrapped the microphone cord around his ankle. This caused him to stumble, and while trying to regain his balance he wound up falling backwards off the stage. The microphone and stand also came down, smacking him right in the face. The rest of the Monkees barely had time to shout let alone run over to help stop Micky from falling. The last thing that Micky heard before his closed his eyes were his friends' cries of concern.

………………….

Micky cracked his eyes open and was greeted right away by a bout of double vision. His vision cleared and he saw two familiar brown eyes staring into his. Looking quite concerned, yet relieved at the same time, Peter backed away a little while maintaining eye contact with him.

"Welcome back, Micky. You had us a little worried there for a minute."

"What's going on, Pete? Where are we?"

Peter frowned and then held up a small light, shining it into Micky's eyes. He then turned towards Mike who stood near by.

"After everything he's been through, I'm not surprised that he's still experiencing these spells." Said Peter

Mike nodded his head. "I've been keeping a close watch over him since he was brought in last week. He hasn't changed at all. Unfortunately."

As the two of them spoke to each other, Micky lay there taking in everything around him. Everything about this place bothered him. But what was bothering him the most was his friends. Peter looked and acted much more mature, and seemed much smarter. His hair had been cut short and was slicked back, and he was dressed in a white doctor's coat. A stethoscope was draped loosely around his neck and shoulders and there was a name tag clipped to his coat. Mike seemed to be less fatherly and yet he held a very kind and caring demeanor about him. He hadn't changed very much in his appearance, except that he wasn't wearing his hat, his hair was a little shorter, and he was wearing dark blue scrubs. He, like Peter, wore a name tag clipped to his scrub top. Both name tags had unfamiliar names on them.

Confusion swept over Micky in one large wave as he turned his eyes away from who he believed to be his friends and he looked around the room. The walls were painted very light beige, almost white and there was the hum of small machines near by. Due to his uncomfortable confusion he had not realized until this moment that he was lying in a hospital bed and he wore a hospital gown to go along with it.

Micky tried to sit up only to be cautioned by whom he only thought to be Mike to lie back down. As he laid his head back on the pillow as instructed he finally managed to read the name tags that Mike and Peter bore. The tag on Peter's jacket read "Dr. Tim Weston" while Mike's tag held the name and title of "Derek Ross R.N." The confusion within Micky began to turn into panic as he tried to make sense of everything.

"Wh-what's going on?" Micky's voice shook a little as he spoke. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Micky just try to relax." The doctor said. "We understand the confusion you're experiencing. You're just coming out of one of your dizzy spells. According to all your tests it looks as though your tumor has returned. I'm afraid you'll have to undergo some more chemo treatments."

The fact that this all came from the mouth of the person he believed to be Peter dressed as a doctor, caused Micky's panic to begin to grow.

"Tumor? Chemo? What the hell is going on here?! Mike, Peter please tell me what's happening. Where's Davy?"

Mike stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Micky's shoulder. "Hey Mick, just relax. After you passed out in the hallway we had a feeling you were going to wake up not remembering anything again. We'll explain everything to you the best that we can in a minute. Just tell us the last thing you remember happening."

Micky stared at him like he was out of his mind. "Tell me first who you are. I think you're Mike… I mean you have to be Mike. You look and sound just like him." He let out a small nervous laugh.

Mike sighed. "Micky you know who I am. I'm Derek Ross and I'm the main nurse who has been taking care of you these past two years. In fact you request me to take care of you ever since your first visit here."

"And I am Dr. Weston. I've been treating you for a brain tumor, the reason for you being in the hospital now. The three of us have seen an awful lot of each other." He finished with a slight smile. "Now, Micky, it's your turn to talk to us. What is the last thing you remember before your dizzy spell?"

"M-my dizzy spell? Guys what are you talking about? I didn't have a dizzy spell; I fell off the stage and the mike stand hit me in the head. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in this hospital with you two playing dress up." Micky laughed. "Peter you expect me to believe that you're a doctor treating me for a brain tumor? And Mike, how in the hell can a guy be a nurse? Nurses are chicks."

Dr. Weston and Derek frowned together and hesitated before answering Micky.

"Micky, we're sorry about this, but we are not Mike and Peter." said Derek with a sigh. "We are in fact Dr. Weston and Derek Ross. And you should know that in this day and age there are plenty of male nurses like myself."

"Now," said Doctor Weston as he sat next to Micky on the bed. "Please finish telling us what you remember. For starters… what stage did you say you fell off of?"

Micky frowned and then nervously grinned with a small laugh to match. "What do you mean? The stage at the Vincent Van… we were setting up for the gig. I-I was just about to put my drum kit together… I think…"

"Are you referring to the old club the Vincent Van Au Go Go?" The doctor asked. Micky confirmed with a nod of his head. "I'm afraid that would be impossible for you to be on stage at that club. It burned down in 1970 and has not been rebuilt since."

"And if you ever were there…" The nurse started "You would be much older than you are now. Probably in your late 40s, early 50s."

"W-what year is it?" Micky asked with a trembling voice.

"It is 1998. You started coming here for treatments in 1996." Doctor Weston answered. "Now do you care to continue telling us about being at the club?"

"W-well I… That is the four of us were there for a gig. We were all setting up but I was goofing around." He paused and looked at Derek. "You, I mean Mike told me to stop messing around and set up my drums. I tripped over the mike cord and fell off the stage. The mike stand came down and hit me in the head. That's the last thing I remember."

"That's really interesting." Replied Derek, genuinely fascinated by what Micky was saying. "You said the four of us were setting up. Who else was there?"

Micky blinked in surprise, momentarily forgetting that he was only talking to Mike and Peter's look-a-likes. "What do you mean who else was there? Davy! Who else?"

"So you are saying that you, Derek, this Davy person and I were setting up for a gig at a club that burned down years ago, and then you fell off the stage? Micky none of what you are telling us makes sense. It must have been some dream you were having."

"No it wasn't a dream! It's what really happened! Come on you guys this isn't funny." He started to feel the burn of tears forming in his eyes as he spoke. "Mike, Peter, you have to remember Davy and being in the band together. You know… Hey hey we're the Monkees…? We're The Monkees, man. Don't you have any idea what I'm talking about? You have to! You just have to!" His tears had just begun to fall as he finished talking.

"Micky please calm down. Everything is going to be ok. We know this is a lot for you to take in right now but we assure you that everything will come back to you real soon." Derek said with a soothing tone as he wiped Micky's tears away.

"This happens every time after one of your dizzy spells." Dr. Weston added. And that is why we decided to bring in someone who might help you come through this bout of confusion."

"Please tell me it's Davy. I need to see him now. I need something… normal." He sniffed.

Derek shook his head sadly. "Sorry Micky. We don't know anyone named Davy around here. But hopefully you will remember Paula. Seeing her could help you feel better."

Dr. Weston stepped away from Micky's bed and then walked over to the door. He opened the door and then stepped into the hall. When he returned a second later he was carefully ushering a sickly looking teenage girl. He walked the girl over to Micky's bedside and then Micky wiped away the remainder of his tears to look at her.

"Hi Micky. Remember me?" She asked with a grin and an eerily familiar British accent.

Her overall appearance shocked Micky at first when he saw her. It was partly due to the fact that he wasn't prepared to be greeted by someone in her condition. She had no hair, was rail thin and swimming in her pink hospital issued pajamas and matching robe. Another thing that shocked Micky was the fact that, despite her ill appearance and feminine features, this girl could have easily been Davy's twin sister. All Micky could do was stare at her and try to get his brain to register what he was seeing before him.

"Micky this is Paula. The two of you met two years ago. With her cancer and your brain tumor, you have been pretty much on the same schedule for chemo treatments. So because of that you two have managed to become friends." Dr. Weston explained.

"You've been close friends ever since. You have helped each other through your illnesses and even visit each other during extended hospital stays like right now. She has really helped you out a lot whenever you have your dizzy spells." Derek added.

As Micky looked at Paula, Derek and even Dr. Weston, he felt a strong and growing sick feeling in his stomach. All the information he had just heard within minutes was swimming around through his mind. He had never been more confused and scared than he was in this moment. Trying to take it all in only made him feel much worse. Suddenly the entire room began to spin and then the double vision returned. The next thing he knew, everything around him had turned completely black.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

The sound of people rambling together was the first thing that Micky heard. He felt like he was coming out of a dream yet he wasn't sure if he was even awake. His head throbbed a little and he sensed light in the room, shining down on him. Someone spoke to him but he wasn't able to understand what they were saying to him or even figure out who they were. When they spoke again, saying his name, he recognized this person as Peter. The strange thing about it was, Peter's voice seemed so far away and almost echoed.

"Micky? Hey Mick?"

Peter's vice was much clearer now, as though he was standing right next to him. Micky slowly opened his eyes to see Peter looking directly at him. This was the Peter that Micky recognized. No doctor's coat, no stethoscope, no strange name tag; nothing at all about him showed any indications of a doctor. Everything was familiar right down to the red button down shirt, grey slacks and belt buckle turned to the side. Micky smiled brightly as he sat up, ready to hug him.

"Pete! It's you! The real you!"

"Micky thank goodness you're awake!" Peter replied, smiling. "We thought we were going to have to take you to the hospital." He paused and then frowned with confusion. "What do you mean the real me? Which me was you expecting? Isn't there only one?"

Micky shook his head, still smiling. "Never mind, Pete. It doesn't matter."

He looked down, placing his hands on his body to make sure that he was the way he was supposed to be. Much to his relief he saw everything that he wanted; no hospital gown, just the matching stage uniform and a pair of drumsticks in one of his pockets just as he remembered. Mike and Davy came over to him, and just seeing them made him smile more. He jumped up, taking to his feet right in front of them.

"Hey Mike!" He wrapped his arms around the guitar player's waist, taking him by surprise. "It's you! No scrubs!" he pulled away and placed both hands on Mike's head. "You got your hat even!"

Mike looked at him stunned and completely baffled. "Uh yeah Mick. What's gotten into you?"

Ignoring Mike, Micky jumped over to Davy, hugging him the same way. Micky then pulled away, keeping his hands on Davy's sides. He looked at him up and down, smiling the entire time.

"Davy! You're not a chick! And you've got hair!" he planted a big kiss on Davy's forehead.

Davy pulled away from him with a grimace to end all grimaces. His brown doe eyes had narrowed as he stared at Micky.

"What're ye talking about? Mate you've gone crackers!"

"No Davy I'm fine. You guys are the way you're supposed to be. It proves that there's nothing wrong."

Peter walked over to them still looking confused. But his confusion was far from out of place because Mike and Davy held the same expression. Micky stepped up to Peter, finally giving him a hug like he had given to the other two guys. After pulling away from Peter, Micky laughed to himself, knowing that he had to explain.

"Guys, please excuse my Wizard of Oz moment. But I just had a crazy dream." He turned to Mike. "And you were there." He looked at Peter. "And you were there." He looked at Davy and placed a hand on his shoulder. "And Davy you were a chick with cancer but you were there too."

"A chick with cancer?" Davy asked with disgust.

"And you guys wouldn't believe this one. I still don't believe it myself. But Big Peter here was a doctor."

Peter grinned, showing off his dimples. "Imagine that. Me; a doctor."

"Yeah Peter." said Mike. "If you were a doctor we'd all be dead. No offence." He paused and looked at Micky. "You ok to play?"

"Yeah I feel great." Micky smiled. "Never better."

"Great. We have to go on stage now. Mick you can tell us more about this dream you had later."

The Monkees began to leave the backstage area with Mike leading the way. For a second, as the two of them lagged behind, Peter looked at Micky as though he knew something. Davy came back and grabbed Peter by the arm, pulling him along.

"Come along doctor." He snickered.

"Yeah, Peter a doctor, you a chick with cancer. Next thing you know, Micky will say that I was a male nurse." Mike said just before the three of them were out of Micky's sight.

Micky couldn't help but laugh to himself over Mike's comment before following them to the stage. He thought that if only Mike knew exactly what he had just dreamt about, he wouldn't be laughing about it.

The crowd cheered the moment that The Monkees stepped onto the stage. No time at all was wasted before the band went into their first set. Everything was going great for them until part way through the third song. Micky's head began to throb all over, making it hard for him to concentrate on the music. The other three guys took notice to Micky's behavior so after the song ended they pulled him to the side of the stage where they wouldn't be seen so they could talk to him privately.

"Mick, are you sure you're ok?" Mike asked, concerned. "You're not playing like you normally do."

"Yeah you seem like something's bothering you." Peter added.

"Do you need a break or so' thing? We could cut this set short if you want."

Micky shook his head. "No I'm fine. Just a headache. I can keep playing through it."

"Ok buddy if you're up for it." Mike said with a little uncertainty to his voice.

They went back out to center stage so they could finish their set. As they played, however, Micky found that his headache was getting worse. It was making him heel ill and a little dizzy at times. But he tried his best to hold himself together and keep playing. At one point they were about to do a song that allowed Micky to get out from behind his drums and sing. As he reached the mike stand his dizziness returned and it had reached the point where it was just about to knock him off his feet. He had to grab the stand in order to keep himself from falling over but he wound up collapsing any way. The last thing he experienced before blacking out completely was Mike catching him to keep him from falling off the stage.

…………………….

"I got you. I got you, Mick. You're alright."

Mike's voice was the first thing that came to Micky as he was waking up. He felt weak as he was opening his eyes. He leaned his head back against Mike's chest, feeling his arms holding him steady in sitting position on the floor.

"You had another one of your dizzy spells, but you're going to be fine now. It's a good thing I was right here with you the whole time."

"Yeah… yeah… thanks Mike. Man this is embarrassing…. Me passing out in front of everyone like that. Maybe I should have listened to Davy when he suggested for us to take a break."

Mike sighed. "Micky… man I hate to tell you this…"

Micky froze with a cringe, having a bad feeling. He then looked around him and saw what made that bad feeling much worse; the white walls of a hospital hallway. A nurse walked by, pushing a patient in a wheelchair. A doctor rushed from the opposite direction, looking from his watch to the clipboard in his hand. Another doctor and a couple walked out of a nearby room and started heading down the hallway. Panic and tears had begun to form at the same time as Micky didn't want to face what was happening around him. Looking back at the person who was still holding him steady, he saw the familiar looking dark blue scrubs. The tears were about to surface as he glanced up at the name tag. Before he could read the tag his tears had blurred his vision, falling down his face. He knew what name was on the tag and it scared him to death.

"You're not Mike…"

"No Micky, I'm not."

"And Peter and Davy aren't here, are they?" He sniffed.

"Nope. Sorry."

"We were never on stage performing in front of an audience… were we?"

"Micky I'm really sorry."

Micky's lower lip trembled and the tears began to fall faster. He couldn't believe or understand what was happening to him, and that hurt him way too much. As he cried he wished with everything that he had that he wasn't sitting there in the hospital hallway with nurse Derek Ross. The place where he wanted to be the most was back on stage with the rest of The Monkees.

"Why do I have to be here?" He sniffed, nearly choking on his tears. "Why can't I just go home?"

"Micky I understand; you've always hated these chemo treatments. But I have to take you now. There's no way out of it."

"No!" He pounded his fist onto the tile floor beneath him. "That's not what I meant! I want to go home to my friends! I want to finish the set and then talk to some people in the audience! I just… I just… I just want what's familiar to me." He sobbed.

"Micky please calm down. Everything is going to be alright. Let's just get you to chemo and then I'll see if you can visit with Paula. She always cheers you up."

"No no no! I don't want to see Paula! I don't want any damn chemo! I just want to go home…"

The only thing that Derek could do was hold Micky in his arms and let him cry. It took a while but Micky managed to calm down and stop crying. Then, after much convincing on Derek's behalf, Micky allowed Derek to take him to get his chemo treatment. And he hated every moment of it.

Nothing was making any sense to Micky at all. The more he wanted to go back home to Mike, Peter and Davy, the more he was told that it was impossible for him to do so. He tried so hard to fight against what he was being told but nothing worked. Every time that he closed his eyes and opened them back up again he hoped that he would be back to where he wanted to be. But every time that he did this he knew in his heart that it wasn't going to work; and he was right about that. It broke his heart every time he made this attempt to go back to everything he knew and understood.

The chemo treatment was like nothing he had ever experienced before. And while he was going through it he hoped that he would never have to experience this ever again. He thought that if this was what sick people had to go through to get better he would much rather just be sick and skip the treatments. In his mind he wasn't even sure if he really was sick to begin with. All he had to go by was Doctor Weston and Derek's word that he in fact had a tumor. Then as his chemo session was coming to an end Micky had a dreadful thought. Perhaps everything he was being told about his tumor, and being friends with Paula has been the truth. And if that was the case then perhaps everything he knew about his life as a member of The Monkees has only been a vividly imagined experience brought on by his chemo treatments. He realized then that there was no real way he could tell what was real and what was created by his own illness, if in fact he was sick. And this realization frightened him much more than anything has ever frightened him before.

After the chemo session Micky was brought back to his hospital room. He had no idea what he could expect to feel during or even after having the treatment. But once he was back in his room he was more than glad that it was over. He lay there in his bed feeling tired and just completely run down. All he wanted to do was sleep and he knew that this was the perfect time to do just that since he was alone. His mind was going crazy with trying to figure things out and this alone was beginning to give him a headache. As he closed his eyes an image of his three friends and the life they shared together in the beach house came into his mind. For the first time since he had found himself in the hospital a smile appeared on his lips. Right then with the image of his familiar life in his mind he drifted off to sleep, feeling a little more at ease.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Micky stirred with a grunt, feeling almost afraid to open his eyes. He could tell that someone was sitting next to where he lay but he wasn't sure who this someone was. He just hoped that this someone was a familiar face and nothing was out of the ordinary with them. When he decided to open his eyes he was very much relieved to see Davy looking back at him.

"Ey mate." Davy said with a slight smile. "Glad to see you awake again."

"Davy…" Micky sat up slowly with a small cringe. "What happened?"

"You passed out on stage right in the middle of a performance."

As Micky looked around to make sure he was backstage at the club instead of in an unfamiliar hospital, Mike and Peter came over to where he and Davy were.

"How're you doin' there, Mick?" Mike asked

"I'm fine now."

"You really feeling better?" asked Peter. "You really didn't seem well at all. You ok?"

Micky let out a slight laugh. "Yes, Peter, I'm ok. Feeling much better now. Thanks for asking."

"You had us worried a while there." said Davy. "Especially since you were complaining about a headache."

"Yeah…" Micky paused, cringing. "I can't believe I tried to push myself like that when I knew how I was feeling. Not only that, but everyone saw me pass out. How embarrassing is that?"

"Yeah well you're lucky I was there to catch you before you fell off stage."

The moment that Mike had said that, Micky was hit with a bout of déjà vu. For a split second he wanted to check Mike to see if he was wearing scrubs or even a name tag that gave him the name "Derek Ross". But he shook that notion off once he took to his feet.

"Ok well… I may be feeling fine now but I just want to go home and rest."

"Boy." said Peter "He just wakes up and all he wants to do is rest."

This comment caused some rolled eyes, shaken heads and one uttered "Oh Peter" from the other three guys. Shortly after that, The Monkees decided that this was the right time for them to go home. On their way home, Micky sat in the back seat trying to relax. He watched his three friends somewhat closely. Although glad to see them the way that they should be, Micky was feeling very confused over the entire situation. Nothing about what he had been experiencing was making sense and that was beginning to stress him out. He had never experienced anything like what he was going through before and he didn't know how to deal with it.

When they got back to the house, Micky felt strange; he felt almost zombie-like. All he wanted to do was go upstairs and go straight to bed. Blaming it on a returning headache (that he wasn't actually feeling) he said goodnight to the other guys and went upstairs. As soon as he stepped into the bedroom, he sensed a feeling of unfamiliarity. This was something that he could not explain to himself, and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to explain it. He quickly undressed and then with a sigh he got into bed.

There he lay for a moment or two, starring at random spots around the room while drumming his fingers together. He felt really uneasy and a bit nervous but at first he didn't know why. Then after laying there for a little bit he realized what the cause for these feelings was. He was worried that the moment he would close his eyes and fall asleep, there was a great chance that he was going to wind up back at the hospital. This was the last thing he wanted to happen so he thought that if it was going to happen to him then he was going to try to prolong it as long as he possibly could.

Even though it was what he wanted to do right then, Micky tried hard to fight off sleep. He just could not open his eyes to find that he was in the hospital in that unfamiliar world. It frightened him so much to know that this was something that he could not control no matter how much he wanted to. Finally, as he felt sleep overwhelming him; he took in a deep breath. The worries were still present on his mind but he allowed his eyes to close. He didn't sleep right away but he felt much more relaxed than he did before. After letting out a sigh, Micky pushed all thought out of his mind and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

………………

Micky could tell that someone was sitting on his bed and he sensed this person staring at him. He wanted to know who this person was but he wasn't actually sure if he wanted to open his eyes to find out. This person reached out and tickled him under his chin, causing him to twitch. He heard a feminine giggle before he was tickled again. This time Micky swatted the girl's hand away from his face and turned his head.

"Quit it." He mumbled.

"Ah ha!" The familiar female voice exclaimed. "I knew you were awake!" She said, her voice thick with Davy's accent.

Micky sighed, knowing exactly who he was going to see once he opened his eyes. He opened his eyes and sure enough he saw Paula looking back at him with a smile.

"Well good morning there sleepy head."

"What are you doing here?" Micky asked while restraining his urge to roll his eyes at her.

"I asked if I could come see you. Dr. Weston said I could wait in here until you woke up."

"Very nice." He replied somewhat sarcastically.

He then looked at her a little confused over the fact that she had a full head of hair. Her brown hair was done up in a chin-line bob cut with bangs touching her eyebrows.

"What's the matter, Micky? You're looking at me so strangely."

"You didn't have any hair the last time I saw you."

"I know. This is a wig. You like it?"

"Uh… yeah it looks nice on you. You look good with hair."

"Thank you." She grinned, bouncing the bottom of her wig with her hands.

Micky lay there for a moment before he pulled himself into sitting position. As he sat there he looked around the room at everything except for Paula. The entire time he held a frown upon his face. At this time he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or even if what he had experienced before was a dream. Everything was so confusing to him that it was beginning to make him sick. When he finally looked up at Paula again he saw her looking at him with a sad expression.

"Why are you looking at me like that for?" He asked

"You just seem so sad. It makes me feel so terrible. Micky what's the matter?"

"I don't know. I mean I do know but I don't really know how to explain it. Not even to myself."

"Well… what's on your mind? Maybe I can help you figure things out."

He leaned his head back against his pillow and turned his eyes up toward the ceiling with a sigh. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to someone but at the same time he knew that if he didn't clear his mind he would feel a lot worse than he already did. After a few false starts, Micky gave in and decided to talk to Paula.

"Ok it's like this, Paula." He started. "I was setting up on stage at the Vincent Van Au Go Go, I fell off the stage and got hit in the head and passed out. Then when I woke up I was here talking to people who look and sound just like my friends. Only they're not my friends. I get told that I have a brain tumor and I have to go through chemo treatments. And then I pass out again and wake up at the club where I was to begin with. I've been having these spells where I pass out and then wake up here. I have no idea what's going on or why it's happening to me and I'm being made to believe that the life that I'm used to never really existed. But that's the life I want to go back to."

Paula stared at him for a moment before she spoke. "You talk a lot, you know."

"Yeah I know." He let out a small chuckle. "I suppose that's one thing that stayed the same."

"Well did telling me all that help you feel better?"

Micky shook his head. "No it didn't."

Paula paused for a second, before she smiled at him. "I think I know a way that could help you feel better."

"Look Paula, the only thing that could help me feel better right now is if I was able to go home and never return to this place."

Paula laughed while shaking her head. She then placed a hand on Micky's leg and leaned in closer to him. Then, taking Micky by complete surprise, she planted a big kiss on his lips. Micky panicked and pushed her away from him. His eyes were wide and he shook a little as he pulled himself into a ball in order to have nothing on his body touching her.

"What's the matter with you?!"

She looked stunned and hurt at him. "But Micky… you've kissed me before."

"I have not! I would never kiss you! Y-you're Davy! I mean you're not Davy but you look-."He covered his face with his hands. "Oh my god I'm freaking out here! What are you doing to me?"

Paula placed a gentle hand on Micky's knee. "Micky shh… Please calm down baby."

"Don't "baby" me! I'm not your baby!"

"No, listen to me, Micky. Everything's going to be ok. You're going to remember everything soon, just like you always do. You'll see, Micky."

"No, no, no! I won't listen to you! None of this is even real! I'm dreaming this right now. I have to be! And please don't tell me that this is all real because I know it's not! It's not! None of this is real!"

Not knowing what else to do, Paula, in a panic, frantically pressed the call button near Micky's bed. As she waited for someone to come into the room, she tried to calm Micky down. Very quickly, Dr. Weston and Derek rushed into the room and took to Micky's bedside. Paula trued to explain to them the best that she could about what had happened. At this point Micky was in tears and very confused over what was going on around him. After Paula had been asked to leave the room, Derek held Micky down and then Dr. Weston injected Micky with an unknown substance in a syringe.

Micky continued to cry, partly because of his fear and confusion, and partly because he was scared of what the doctor could have injected him with. He wanted to ask them what was going on but he wasn't able to form words through his tears. Then as he looked at them things became blurry. A wave of paralyzing calmness rushed over him, making him suddenly feel overwhelmed with sleep. At first he tried to fight off the sleep but the drugs that were forced upon him were just too strong. The next thing that he knew was, he had closed his eyes and then he was completely out cold.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

"No! Please don't inject me with that!" Micky shouted as he sprung up in his bed.

Panting in a panic, Micky quickly checked himself out. He saw that he was wearing the same clothes that he had on the night before and that he was home in his own bed. Mike and Peter rushed into the room after hearing him scream.

"Mick, are you alright?" asked Mike, reaching the bed first.

"What were you screaming about?" Peter inquired

Micky still appeared a little frightened as he sat there. "I-I'm fine. Oh man it must have been a dream."

"Sounds like some dream, too." said Mike. "You musta been having it all night long."

"What do you mean by that?" Micky asked

"You were talking in your sleep the whole time." Peter answered. "We stayed with you in shifts to make sure you were all right. Davy told us that when he was in here, you were crying."

"Crying?"

Mike nodded his head to confirm this. "We heard you downstairs even. Davy also said how you were talking about him for a moment. Even mentioned how you would never kiss him."

"Oh God." Micky said with a groan in his voice. "Where is he now?"

"Downstairs sleeping."

"Did he mention if I said anything else?"

"Well he did say you were talking the whole time but he wasn't able to make much of it out." Mike replied.

"But he did mention the name Paula." Peter added. "Micky, who's Paula?"

"Pete, I couldn't even begin to explain that one."

"Well could you at least tell us what you were dreaming about?"

Micky looked at Peter for a couple seconds, trying to decided if he should try to explain what he had experienced before he woke up. A slight, uneasy grin fell upon his lips as he got out of bed.

"No, Pete, I don't think I can."

He briefly hesitated before walking away from them and heading over to the door. For just a second he glanced back at Mike and Peter, only to see the perplexed expressions on their faces. Then as he stepped outside the room, Micky muttered that he felt like he needed to be alone for a little bit.

For the first time in a long while Micky actually walked down the stairs. Sliding down the railing was one thing that did not seem right for him to do. Even when he had reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around the area, he did not see any thing that felt familiar to him. Sure this was the place that he called home, and these were his belongings that he saw, but none of it seemed like it should have been a part of his life. And he just couldn't understand why he felt this way or what was happening to him now.

Micky slowly walked around, taking everything in. As he did this he realized that everything seemed much more like a dream rather than real life. He approached the bandstand and frowned. It was empty since all their instruments were still at the club. But even if their instruments had been in place where they should have been, Micky still felt as though he wouldn't even recognize them. While standing there on the bandstand he looked out the large bay window at the balcony. Then with a heavy sigh he stepped outside onto the balcony and looked out at the beach below. Nothing about what he saw seemed real to him. Nothing seemed to belong. Nothing seemed to actually be in his world.

Not knowing what else to do, Micky walked down the steps all the way to the sand. The only thing for him to do now was walk along the beach while he tried to collect and sort out his thoughts. Whenever he found himself in that hospital, this was always the place that he wished to be. This was always the place that he referred to as home. The hospital and the world that he'd wake up to always frightened him and he believed that the place that he was in now would help him feel safe. But now that he was back here again, he only felt lost. He felt insecure and confused. Now that he was "home" again he wasn't sure if this was the place where he wanted to be. But where he wanted to be, he wasn't sure of. All he knew was, he wanted to find a place where he truly belonged.

It scared him to think that maybe this place wasn't where he belonged any more. He was worried that one day, probably very soon, he was going to wake up and he would never see his best friends any more. That was something that he really didn't want to happen if he wound up where he was supposed to be, but he had a bad feeling that it was what was going to happen.

As he walked along the beach he looked around, still trying to figure things out. His head was beginning to hurt and there was an ill feeling in his stomach the more that he thought about all of this. He sat down to try to clear his head of all the confusion and fear, and then he starred out at the water. It seemed as though the moment that he sat down, his head started to feel a lot worse. It started pounding and it felt like something was squeezing it. There was a sharp pain in his eyes and suddenly all he could see was a bright, blinding white light. Bringing his hands up to the sides of his head he clutched his eyes tight. The pain only got a lot worse. Micky couldn't do anything about the pain except lie down in fetal position, clutching his head. All of a sudden everything went completely black.

…………………

It might have been hours or it could have been minutes but no matter how much time had gone by, it wasn't important to Micky. He felt groggy and his head throbbed, but it didn't feel nearly as bad as it did before. Micky groaned a little, feeling stiff and sore all over. By the way his body felt, it was clear that he hadn't been lying in the sand for a while. He didn't want to open his eyes to find out where he was, in hopes of going back to sleep. Hearing voices near by, Micky lay there and listened for a moment. These voices were familiar to him but at first he wasn't sure who was talking. It also took him a minute or two before he realized that the people that the voices belonged to were talking about him. Knowing that they were talking about him, Micky lay there still, pretending to be asleep, and listened to what they were saying.

"You shouldn't be doing this to him! It's not right!" One man pleaded.

"What makes you think you can tell me how to do my job? Now either you help me with him or I'm doing this myself." The other man retorted with great authority in his voice.

It was in this moment when Micky finally recognized these two men as Derek and Dr. Weston. He stiffened his body a little once this realization had been made, but still he listened to what they were talking about.

"Doctor Weston I can't let you take him there. He's _sick. _He has a brain tumor. And you're treating him like a mental patient."

This caused Micky to frown when he heard it.

"My decision is final. I'm taking him to the psyche ward immediately."

"Doctor Weston!" Derek fired back, growing clearly angry. "You know damn well that he's having these delusions because of the tumor! He needs treatment for that and you know it!"

"You still believe those test results I showed you?" The doctor asked with a laugh in his voice. "Those test results were from two years ago! His tumor is gone which means he now needs psychiatric treatment."

"You showed me, and his family, old test results. You had me give him chemo treatments. This whole time we've been treating him for a tumor he doesn't even have?!" Derek punched the wall beside him out of sheer anger, leaving a dent the size and shape of his fist. "What kind of messed up, fucking doctor are you?!"

"Nurse, calm yourself down now!"

"Calm down?! Let me tell you something! You may be my superior but I have every right to report you for this! You'd lose your license and get sued so fucking fast!" He paused, but for only a second. "And another thing! You're damn lucky that dent I put in the wall wasn't in your face!"

While this argument was going on, Micky could no longer pretend to be asleep. He had sat up in his hospital bed and pulled himself into a ball while still in sitting position. His eyes were wide with fear as he watched the two men argue. While hearing the things that were being said about him, Micky had never been more frightened over anything in his life.

Could what he was hearing be true? Could the tumor he was told that he had, been nothing more than a complete lie? Could this mean that everything he knew about his life, about his friends, about being in The Monkees, never actually existed after all? Could he be _crazy_? Micky wanted to cry. He wanted to run away. He wanted to start yelling along with Derek at Dr. Weston for keeping this very crucial information from everyone, him especially. All kinds of emotions and thoughts were swarming over him all at the same time, but mostly he was experiencing a great deal of fear. This fear paralyzed him to his spot on the bed. With the overwhelming panic that he was feeling, his breathing had grown rapid. He also couldn't control his tears as they began to fall from his fearful eyes.

This immediately drew the attention of the male nurse and the doctor. Derek rushed over to Micky's side and tried to provide comfort for him the best that he could. He snapped his head towards the doctor, looking at him in anger.

"See what you caused?" he barked at the doctor. "How _could _you? You horrible, heartless, sad excuse for a man!"

"You may not realize it, but I did what had to be done. He will be much better off now. Fight me all you want over this, _Nurse Ross, _I'm having him taken to the psyche ward."

Doctor Weston then turned on his heel and exited the room in a huff. Derek sat there with his arms tightly around Micky, trying desperately to get him to calm down. Micky clung to him, burying his face into Derek's chest, as he continued to cry. Both of them were furious over what Doctor Weston had said about Micky, but Micky was also worried about a million other things all at the same time. Derek, while comforting Micky, looked like he was ready to start swinging at someone, while Micky was just a big emotional mess.

Moments later Doctor Weston returned to the room with two rather large and scary looking orderlies. Scowling, Derek pulled away from Micky and stood up. He had his fists clenched as he looked at the doctor and the two orderlies. It looked as though he was about to fight his mortal enemy, and right then he felt as though he was.

"Doctor Weston I refuse to let you take Micky to the psyche ward. He doesn't deserve this."

"Step aside, Derek."

Derek folded his arms across his chest and clenched his jaw. "Absolutely not."

"Fine." said the doctor. "Looks like we're going to do this the hard way."

Micky watched tearfully as Doctor Weston had the two orderlies force Derek out of the way. Knowing what they were going to do, Micky found himself suddenly hyperventilating. Then as the orderlies approached him, he wound up passing out.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

The warm sun gently grazed Micky's cheeks as he lay there in the sand. He felt so warm and comfortable laying there in the nice morning sun, that he didn't have the motivation to open his eyes. This, he already knew, was the most pleasant contrast to his last remembered experience he had there on the beach. He felt as a contented smile formed upon his mouth, feeling as though he had never woken up better in his young life.

Shadows fell upon him, taking away his nice warm sunshine. That was when he opened his eyes. Right away he saw that the shadows had been made by his three friends and band mates. His eyes and smile brightened when he saw them, then he brought himself into seated position by pushing himself up with his hands.

"Man is it ever nice to see you guys."

Mike bent down and extended a hand to help Micky up onto his feet. "Are you feeling alright, Mick? We saw you laying out here for a while not really moving or anything." He said while helping Micky brush the sand off of his clothes.

"Seemed like you were in pain for a while." Said Davy

"Yeah well I was." He glanced at his three friends. "You guys have no idea what I've been through."

"Is it bad headaches like what you had last night?" Peter asked

Micky shook his head. "No Peter. Well yeah I had a headache out here but that's not what I was talking about."

The other three Monkees looked at each other and then back at Micky, in confusion. Neither of them needed to ask him what he was talking about; their expressions did it for them. Then, with a sigh, Micky made the suggestion to head back into the house so they could talk much more comfortably.

Once inside, Micky awkwardly struggled to begin expressing his thoughts to his three concerned friends. He had no idea how they could possibly understand what he had been going through because he didn't understand it himself. But then he decided that he wouldn't worry about if it was understood or not; he was going to just tell them everything that he knew about what he was experiencing since the night before at the club.

He told them all about Doctor Weston, Derek and about Paula. He told them about the brain tumor he supposedly had in this other world, and about the chemotherapy he was told he had to go through. He told them all about Paula kissing him and about Derek trying to help him against the corrupted Doctor Weston. He also told them about how he had been drugged and how he was going to be taken to the psyche ward. As he was telling them about all this he was becoming more and more emotional, trying desperately to convince them that everything he had gone through was, as far as he knew, real.

Then, after Micky explained everything to them, the four of them began to discuss what, if anything, they could do to help Micky. Neither of them knew what to think about it though. After much consideration, and much convincing on their part, Micky decided that perhaps the best thing for him was to talk to a therapist about everything. They thought that, if anything the therapist would be able to tell Micky why he seemed to be experiencing two dramatically different worlds every time he was unconscious.

No time was wasted in finding a therapist for Micky to go to. In fact it was surprisingly only a few hours before Micky had found himself in the office of a therapist that was found for him by his friends. Mike, Davy and Peter waited outside in the waiting room, trying to either not be bored or to ward off the anxiety that came along with being at the edge of their seats. At one point, Mike was casually and very quietly reading an old magazine that he was sure had been sitting in the waiting room since it had come out, Davy had busted out his nail file and began grooming his nails while trying not to appear nervous, while Peter just sat on the floor in the corner of the room looking as though he was either staring at the pattern of the wallpaper or meditating. All while this happened, their thoughts were on Micky. They each held great concern for him and hoped that whatever was wrong with him, the therapist could fix soon (and for a very cheap price).

Micky sat on the small couch in front of the therapist. He tried hiding the fact that he was greatly uncomfortable and nervous by putting on his typical jocular, hyper persona he always carried. But since he had put it on a little thicker than he normally would, the therapist saw right through it. After this had been established, Him.

As Micky explained things to the therapist he knew that it would take a while to sort through it all then the allotted hour but he knew that he wanted to do whatever it took to get through and hopefully put an end to it. All he wanted was to have his normal life back. However, part way through the session, a headache had crept up within Micky. He pinched and rubbed the sides of his nose between his eyes before lying down. But once he lied down he felt his headache growing worse. The therapist, Dr. Pierce, took notice to this and questioned him about it.

"Oh it's nothing." Micky said in reply. "Just a regular headache."

"Micky didn't you tell me that these spells start out as headaches?" Asked Doctor Pierce

"Well… yeah I guess I did."

Micky let out a slight laugh and then made an attempt to sit up. Just as he was almost sitting up straight, the headache he was feeling intensified. He was forced to lie back down as dizziness joined the great pain. Hearing the therapist speak to him with concern, but not knowing what he was saying, Micky closed his eyes in hopes of feeling better. However, the pain only got much worse. Even with his eyes closed he could sense everything around him disappearing into a world of darkness as he blacked out once again.

………………

There was a constant hum and the steady beeping of machines near by him. At first he couldn't tell whether he was awake or not but for some reason he didn't really care either way. Strangely he could feel the movements of people walking about the room he was in but he really couldn't hear anything other than the machines. However his ears did actually tune into the sound of music softly playing near by, accompanied by some slight static as though the music was coming from a radio. He made an attempt to try to figure out what song that was playing on the radio but it just wasn't coming in clear or loud enough for him. As much as he could tell, the song seemed to be from the time he was familiar with (The era being of course the 1960s). Quickly forgetting about the unclear, yet vaguely familiar, song on the radio, he tried to tune his ears into other sounds around him. For just a moment he thought he heard someone talking, but because the voices were murmured and seemed so far away, he wasn't able to hear what was being said or who could possibly be talking.

For some strange reason, none of what he was hearing sound him seemed too important to him. At that moment all he had in his mind was images of him and his friends. These were all the best memories that he had of them that he wanted to hold on to. He saw random moments of the four of them messing around together at home and on the beach. He saw different holidays they had spent together, making the best out of not having much money between the four of them. He also saw different gigs they played. In those times he thought that they had never been happier. But realizing this began to make him feel sad because he felt like he was never going to have any more moments with his three best friends, his _brothers, _ever again. Because of this he refused to open his eyes so these memories wouldn't fade away.

The women's high heal shoes click-clacked as she walked across the tile floor. With a heavy sigh she paused before the bed and frowned. It pained her so much to see Micky this way. Her heart broke every time that she entered the hospital room and saw him laying there. For just a moment she reached out and brushed some of Micky's hair out of his face, tucking it neatly behind his ear with her hand. And it was in that moment when a very soft smile entered the corner of her mouth; the first, even though very slight, smile she had in a long time. She picked up a magazine that sat on the small end table next to the bed. Then with the magazine in her hand she walked back over to the foot of Micky's bed and sat down. She dejectedly opened the magazine and flipped to a random page. At first her eyes fell upon the page but did not pick up on anything from it. She sighed and then looked up from the magazine and glanced over at Micky. She had been coming here every day ever since Micky was brought in, and she usually stayed until visiting hours were over. Each day that she visited him there seemed to be no hope for him, but still she felt like she had to remain by his side. Just in case. But today something seemed different to her. Something made her feel like this could have been the day.

Her eyes turned away from Micky's face and then went back to the magazine she held in her hands. Another sigh escaped her as she sat there. As she starred blankly at the page something seemed different to her. She sensed slight movement on the bed, causing her to look up. At first she didn't notice anything but after a second she saw Micky move his fingers. With a small gasp dropped the magazine beside her and moved in closer to him. Then she began to closely examine him. First his fingers moved some more then his head moved a little. She smiled, feeling excited over this occurrence. For just one moment longer she watched Micky before she rushed out of the room.

Micky had heard everything from the woman's shoes on the floor, every sigh she had made and the subtle sounds of the turning of the magazine pages, as well as the woman running out of the room. He sensed everything that the woman had done, especially when she brushed his hair out of his face. But none of it made sense to him. And he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out who this woman could have been. But for some reason he didn't seem to care about it. He felt groggy as though he had been asleep for a long time, and as far as he could tell he probably was. Keeping his eyes closed he tried to go back to sleep. He just could not bear to be awake right then because he knew he was back in the hospital. Great disappointment came along with this realization and right then all he cared about was going back home. He broke his heart to know that he probably wouldn't be able to go back home where he thought he belonged.

Again Micky noticed people entering the room in a rush. They, whom he determined to be the same mystery woman and a doctor, hurried over to the bed where he lay. He heard them talking with some degree of excitement but their voices seemed oddly far away. For the first time Micky cared to find out what was being said. A hand, obviously belonging to a man more specifically the man Micky presumed to be the doctor, touched Micky's face and then caused Micky to turn his head. The doctor spoke but Micky still heard him in the same far away sense, so it was hard to make him out. It took a little bit before Micky realize that he was hearing his own name repeated, or at least he heard it repeated. As the doctor's voice became clearer and louder, the world around Micky began to come into view. Things were blurry at first but then it soon came into focus. The first thing that he saw was the doctor looking back at him, directly into his eyes. He looked at him in confusion at first because he saw his therapist standing there wearing a white doctor's coat.

"This certainly is a miracle." The therapist-turned-medical-doctor said before shining a light into Micky's eyes.

Micky starred at Doctor Pierce."What happened?"

Before the doctor could answer, the woman practically pushed him aside, nearly pouncing onto the bed. Micky's eyes widened a little in surprise as he looked at her, recognizing her right away.

"Micky! Darling!" She held the sides of Micky's face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank God you're awake!"

"M-mom?"

"Yes Micky." She kissed him again. "Somehow I just knew you were going to be ok. I just knew it! Everyone, including Doctor Pierce here, told me it was hopeless waiting here at the hospital day after day, by your side. But I just didn't listen. I just couldn't bear to leave my darling boy here alone in your condition."

"M-my condition?"

Micky looked away from his mom and then at the doctor, desperately searching for answers. The doctor continued to examine Micky and then cleared his throat as though to put his two cents in.

"Micky you had an accident on a jet ski and you nearly drowned. Frankly we weren't sure if you were going to make it."

"I did what now?" He asked, completely baffled.

"Micky you had just got a chance to try out your brand new jet ski and I'm afraid you were trying to show off in front of your friends." His mother explained. "But something went terribly wrong and you were somehow thrown off of the jet ski. If your friends had not been there you surely would have drowned because you had been knocked unconscious. Your friends saved your life and brought you to the hospital."

Micky looked around and saw that this clearly was not the same hospital he was in before. There was a calendar hanging on the wall next to his bed. To his surprise the year on the calendar was 2002, and not 1998. There was a small radio on a table just below the calendar, and coming from the radio was the familiar sounds of 1960s rock music. Not realizing he had a small smile he looked at his mom, motioning towards the radio.

"Hey uh that's…"

His mom nodded, smiling as well. "Right honey; The Byrds. I thought it would help you if you heard some of your favorite music. So I made sure to keep that radio on the station you always listen to. Your sister also came in here a few times with some of your CDs from your room and played them for you."

Micky turned his head in confusion. "CDs?"

"Yeah you know… The Beatles, The Who, Rolling Stones, The Apez…" She answered brightly, missing the point of his question.

"The _Apez_?"

"Of course, funny bunny! You listen to them almost as much as The Beatles. How could you forget them?" she paused and then started to sing a very familiar tune. "Then I saw her face, now I'm a believer. Without a trace of doubt in my mind." She paused slightly to speak instead of sing. "Come on Micky you always sing this song, even when it's not playing."

"Um… yeah… you're right."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could there be another band around with a similar name, doing one of the same songs that he sang with The Monkees? And what in the world was a CD? And while he was in this train of thought, what was this whole jet ski business about any way? Everything seemed so bizarre to him and he had so many questions. Slowly, he sat up and looked at the doctor and his mom in confusion.

"Ok… so… I know you said I almost drowned… what exactly happened to me?"

"What do you mean, honey? I've already told you." His mom replied

"I don't really get it…"

"Micky…" Doctor Pierce spoke up. "You've been in a coma for the past four months."


End file.
